


Le Monde Brisé

by annalore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blowjobs, First Times, Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-13
Updated: 2005-11-13
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:08:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annalore/pseuds/annalore
Summary: Remus finds that it is impossible to escape the present.





	Le Monde Brisé

Sometimes, when the dorm is empty, he will sit on the floor by his bed, on the side facing Sirius’s. When Remus is there, he can imagine himself disappearing, out of sight of the door and the windows. He puts his head down, rests it on his knees, and closes his eyes. 

He imagines it’s last night, or the night before. He imagines the sounds, the vibrations in the floor, the feeling of being there, of being _then_. In his mind, he turns back time. But yesterday is no better than now, only safer.

*

Sirius sits to his left, Indian style, on the floor between their beds. Remus closes his eyes, tries to picture the clock moving backwards, moving him with it. But he’s anchored in now, and Sirius’s gaze is too intense. It penetrates his attempts at invisibility. He opens his eyes.

He almost asks, but it would be pointless. He knows the answers as well as if he’s repeated this moment a thousand times. Sirius leans in. Remus tucks his knees tighter against his body, but turns his head towards his friend.

He knows how it’s supposed to be done, but he’s not prepared for the feeling that’s being engraved in his sense memory. Breath against skin, noses bumping, lips parting, eyes fluttering shut. A hand on the back of his skull, his cheek. Not being sure he likes it, even as his body calls for more.

They pull back, sit side by side. Remus closes his eyes and rests his forehead on his knees.

*

Remus unbuttons his shirt before unbuckling his belt and pushing his trousers down past his hips. He steps back until his legs hit his bed. Sirius gets to his knees in front of him.

Remus feels a brief flutter of panic, and in the instant his eyes drift shut before he reassures himself, he is in the past, desire warring with curiosity, both driving him onwards, demanding he figure out if he likes kissing Sirius, why he wants to, why he agrees to.

He feels his erection throb, and he doesn’t want to watch himself get harder any more than he wants to watch Sirius watching him. Instead, he stares at the opposite wall as he feels hands on his ass, hot breath on his skin, then… It’s strange, as strange as kissing. Because there’s another person’s _mouth_ on his _cock_ , and that’s as absurd as it should be, but the razor of sensation cuts deep. Remus knows he’ll be here, right here, right now, for a dozen nights to come.

He looks down at Sirius, watches his shoulders, his head, watches him try to find which movements are most effective. He wonders if his friend ever has doubts, ever worries that he’ll be trapped in his mistakes, forever. He doubts it.

Remus groans as Sirius’s hands move to gain greater leverage, pull him in tighter. He lets his eyes shut again, imagines the lips he’s kissed, now wrapped around his cock, the mouth he’s explored with his tongue… He imagines himself disappearing, losing himself not to nothingness, but to Sirius.

*

Even though he’s still sore, Remus sits on the floor while Sirius dresses. For once, he tries to imagine the future, but it’s blank. Even tomorrow seems cloudy, though tomorrows are generally no more than a repeat or a progression of today.

When Sirius sits next to him, to his left, Remus doesn’t turn. He hugs his knees tightly, biting his lip, trying to imagine himself alone. But he’s stuck, stuck between his yesterdays and his tomorrows, stuck in the unbearable, painful now.

He feels and hears Sirius lean back against the bed, sees it with his peripheral vision. Remus tries to ask, but his voice is caught between reality and imagination. Between demand for more and the pressure to explode, or disappear. He can’t voice the question, because he doesn’t know it.

Sirius reaches over and grabs his hand, pulling into his lap. And he just holds it. Remus finally looks over at his friend, and it resonates within him for the first time: they’ve never been here before.

He closes his eyes and memorizes the moment. The subtle rhythm of inhale and exhale, the warmth and pressure against his hand. The soft, blurred, yet at the same time poignantly sharp feeling that can only be described as happiness.


End file.
